


Luck be a Lady

by HRH_Selene_R



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Conspiracy, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Heist, Murder, Professional Thief, Reader uses and alias, Reader-Insert, Theft, implied crossover - Freeform, professional assasin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HRH_Selene_R/pseuds/HRH_Selene_R
Summary: The Logan boys have it in their heads a plan to rob the Charlotte Motor Speedway, but in order to do that they need someone with experience in breaking into a high tech vault. In their need, the Logan brothers visit non other than Joe Bang to recruit him into their heist. Problem is, they have to convince him; and knowin’ them Logan boys’ family curse, he ain’t gonna take no chances doing’ this without another professional. They need someone who can get into places and blend in, someone with experience who knows how to improvise and to tie up lose ends….Someone like you.A short fic that started as a one shot and ended up being a short multi chapter fic, where our sweet boi Clyde, falls for a woman that’s more that what she seems. The question is, can he handle it?
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Reader, Clyde Logan & You, Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You, Joe Bang/Mellie Logan, Joe Bang/Reader, Sylvia Harrison/Jimmy Logan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Luck be a Lady

White

The room is an off-color white, not quite bright, as to somehow make it sterile, and cold. It’s the color of day-old snow on the pavement. Hell, even the chairs are a weird gray color, makin’ the room seem monochromatic. It’s all white, unsettling and uncomfortable.

He’s all too familiar with these walls and how isolating being here feels. Say what ya want, but six months under was enough to scare Clyde straight, and there ain’t no way he wants to come back here. But if he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do it right. And doin’ it right meant getting someone who knows how to blow up a Bank Vault. Which, ironically, brings him here. The one place he doesn’t want to be in; with his brother, visiting none other than the famous Joe Bang.

Watching him eat a couple of hard-boiled eggs, and listenin’ to him talk about special salt for his blood pressure before finally getting to the part where his big brother Jimmy explains the plan to bust him outta jail in broad daylight, to blow up a bank vault, and get him back in jail before anyone notices.

At first, Joe can’t believe these two. How exactly are they gonna pull this off anyway? He chuckles at Jimmy Logan’s proposition, thinkin’ the idiots must have a screw loose. 

“You Logan, must be as simpleminded as people say.” Joe said all condescendent like.

“They say that?!” the brothers ask in unison; surprised and offended as they quickly look at one another before turning back to a sniggering Joe Bang.

“Who?” Jimmy asks, not being able to let go of the slight tease.

In Joe’s mind, them Logan’s plan was crazy, but it could work out. If the take’s good and the job seems doable, he might just be able to replace his stolen little nest egg, and then some. Amused, he decided it’s time to talk shop. “So what’s the take?”

“It’s bigger’n you can bury under an oak tree.” Jimmy assures him.

“And the split?” Joe asks back.

“Even Split.” Jimmy answers only to be rebutted immediately by Joe “No. No way.”

Why? Now Clyde’s Curious, he’s been lettin’ his brother do most o’ the talkin’, on account of it bein’ his crazy cauliflower plan, and all. “ Why not?” Clyde asks, confused; wantin’ to know why Joe didn’t think it was a fair deal.

Joe looks at him for a moment. “ I got a brother. I got two. I’d need ‘em involved to protect my interest.

“Fine.” Jimmy sighs, conceding to his demands, figurin’ that a smaller slice is better than no pie at all.

“Alright, What’s the location?” Joe asked them. Now he’s willing to play ball. They just gotta iron out how to actually make the plan work.

“Charlotte Motor Speedway.” Jimmy answered. Three words, no further explanation needed.

A pregnant pause fell on the conspiring men as Joe pursed his lips, giving out a deep sigh through his nose, and leaning back in his seat. 

Thinking his pause meant hesitation, Clyde started to get anxious. They needed Joe Bang, if they’d have any shred of a chance at pullin’ this dang thing off. He leaned forward in his chair and asked Joe “ Don’t think you can do it?” Challenging him and hopin’ he just might take his bait.

“Now I didn’t say that, did I?” Joe answered him defensively, his tone a warning to Clyde not to underestimate him but also treating him with respect; despite just practically offending him by doubting his skills. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Then what’s the problem, Joe Bang?” Jimmy asks, growing impatient, not getting what Joe’s huffing about now.

Joe breathes out a huff, not believing these two idiots and the fact that he has to explain everything. 

“Before I take any job, I look at it the same way as it takes to make a bang: positive versus negative. Now you mix a little bit o’ this with a little bit a’ that and you get a reaction. A reaction is Power, but it’s moving fast and it’s moving away from ya and it keeps moving until it hits somethin’.” 

“Like a vault wall.” Clyde interrupts.

“Sure, like a vault wall. So, you wanna make sure you always get more positive than negative, or else ya gotta get outta the way fast….Pullin’ off a job like this; I gotta weigh in the positive versus the negative….You Logans can just think of it as a plus or minus..” Joe explains to the brothers, leaning back into his chair.

“We get positive and negative.” Jimmy answers him, irritated with joe; feelin’ like he runnin’ them around in circles with the whole dang explanation. 

“Okay, so it’s all cash, that’s a positive. But a place like the track?….It’s gonna have twenty times the amount o’ security of a regular bank, so that’s a negative, but there’ll be a whole mess o’ people walkin’ around there, and that’s a positive; it helps us blend in. There’ll be metal detectors and cameras, you know, recording every dang inch of the place. That’s a negative; we can’t bring anything through them gates. No explosives, no guns.” Joe thinks out loud listing off the various pros and cons of the job, mentally making a list to see what are the chances of them being able to pull off this job.

“No, we don’t. We don’t want usin’ any guns.” Jimmy tells Joe, a bit flabbergasted, that he’s even considering such a thing. Never in his life has he held a gun to threaten anybody. Hell, he don’t even know if he’s capable of shootin’ at somebody. No, no guns. They just complicate everything.

“Absolutely no guns.” Clyde agrees resolutely, shaking his head while looking at Joe seriously in the eyes. It’s not that he’s not familiar or inexperienced. The mas is an iraqui war vet, for cryin’ out loud. He did two goddamn tours over there; of course he knows how to use a gun and how to kill someone. But there’s a time and place for everything, and he won’t kill someone unnecessarily if he can avoid it. He’s a vet now, and that time in his life is over, he’s a bartender, and a small business owner now. He knows what it’s like to kill and he ain’t gonna put that burden on Jimmy. No way, no how. So absolutely no guns.

At the brothers’ refusal Joe leans back in his chair and huffs a sigh from his nostrils. They just don’t make it easy, do they? “Well, I guess for you Logans that’s a positive.”

“So you’ll do it?” Jimmy asks him hopefully; getting to the point of the conversation and the reason for their visit, wanting to get this over with; the more time spent here the more suspicious they look.

Joe on the other hand doesn’t hear him, he’s too busy still thinking about the job in his head. He has to make sure this’ll work out well, ‘cuz he ain’t doin’ nuthin’ to risk increasin’ his sentence, not when he is so close to freedom. So…he may have to outsource, bring out the big guns, so to speak. “The problem, gentlemen, is security. We’d need to find a way to get in.” He explained slowly, his voice deep in his chest and rumbly as he concentrated in thought.

“Access.” Clyde elaborates, glancin’ at Jimmy for a quick bit.

“Exactly!” Joe points his finger at Clyde, eyes wide as someone finally gets it. 

Jimmy stares back and forth at both men. What was he painted onto the walls? “ I can get access, I HAVE access.” Jimmy argues, not to be considered useless.

“You were just fired.” Clyde reminds him, turning to look at him. “ ‘sides don’t ya’ think it’d look suspicious if ya’ll went around snoopin’ for ways to access the tunnels or if you’re caught by the cameras creepin’ around?” Clyde asked Jimmy as if it was the most obvious thing, further proving Joe’s point. 

Joe leans back in his chair and raises his arms, palms up. “He’s right. You’re too close to it, someone in security or a worker might recognize ya. We need to avoid exposing you to the staff as much as possible, particularly the staff that works in the tunnels that can recognize your face.” Joe scratches his growing stubble and strokes his growing stubble as he thought of a solution. Well, we got no choice. We’ll probably have a better off chance of pullin’ this off with ‘er anyway. “ So……We’re gonna need someone for the job…..”

“Who do you reckon?” Jimmy asks him.

————————————-

Mercer County Airport wasn’t crowded, it was just not that modern, you guess, at least not compared to other places you’ve been. But what else could you say about the small County airport? Hell, if it weren’t because you owed Joseph Bang a favor, you wouldn’t have been anywhere relatively near West Virginia, let alone walking into a parking lot of an airpot there.

But, Life is a funny thing, it can take you to a lot of places you’ve never expected to be. And right now, life took you through an airport parking lot and to an old 1969 red Dodge Charger that was calling your name; conveniently parked in the lot, along with other vintage vehicles in good condition.

It’s true that it’s extremely out of the ordinary to see these types of cars together, let alone in the same lot, but you supposed that they’re probably cars on route to go to the auto show that was advertised in one of the touristy pamphlets you saw while walking out of the airport. Something about NASCAR. 

Must be your lucky day, because you can’t see a guard anywhere near here; in fact the whole lot seems to be devoid of people, and you’re not gonna look at gifted horsepower in the mouth.

You supposed with a smirk, that if you’re here for a job, might as well enjoy your time here. A bit of business with pleasure can’t go wrong. Still, Joe better thank you for the trouble that you’re going through, helping him out. The wind blew your hair over your dark cat-eye sunglasses while you try to subtly open the car door, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention. This job better be good, you inwardly complain as you open the bottom part of the dash, below the steering wheel, and start to hot wire the collectible car. You try to do it as quickly as you can, before the security guards can catch a whiff of you and send your cute little ass to jail before you can even hear Joe out.

That won’t do us any good. You wouldn’t be able to show off the cute little white dress you’re wearing, if you’re in a cell, after all.

Your giggles are drowned by the roar of the car’s ignition, as you start getting in, putting your travel bags in the passenger seat and adjusting your mirrors. Adios Mercer airport is the last thing you think about before putting the car into gear and getting out of there.

Getting the window down, you can’t help the feeling crawling through your back and up your shoulders. It’s that feeling of freedom, of anything being possible as the wind blew threw you (H/C) hair, and the open road stretched before you as the car starts speeding.

Now, Joe wasn’t specific or detailed in his call. Actually, he was very vague. All he said was that he was calling up his favor and that he wanted me to be his brother Fish’s date for a fair that’s happening in town. Now, he wasn’t going out with Fish, that much she knew; if anything he was talking in code. The message was simple: “You owe me a favor and now I’m calling it. Come home, and look up my brothers, they’re the point of contact.”  
  
So she gave Fishy a call and set up a meeting at a bar called ‘Duct Tape’. So here she was, in West Virginia, going at 75 mph in a modified and revamped stolen Charger, with nothing but a gps set to take you to this so-called bar, and the open road.

You’ll have to be careful not to attract any unwanted attention, it can be a rural small town, but a cop, is a cop, is a cop. So you’ll have to stop by somewhere nearby to change the plates; exchange them with another car’s, and you better do it soon, you have an appointment to keep and an old friend to meet.

———————————————————–

The air outside was a bit humid and calm tonight as John Denver played from the jukebox, Earl was outside havin’ his usual smoke, the ceilin’ fans are blowin’ air down from above to the drinking patrons, the clinks of glasses and crashes of the billiards table mixed in with the music. 

Clyde supposed he couldn’t complain, at least not for now, all he had to make sure was to get this heist over and done with, he thought as he cleaned up and rearranged some glasses in the bar. He was really just tryin’ to look busy, to not give away the fact that he was actually keepin’ an eye on Sam and Fish Bang while they played pool a few feet away. Now, he and his brother already talked to ‘em durin’ the county fair and got ‘em to agree to help ‘em out with the whole heist and all, so what were they doin’ here? ‘Cuz they weren’t exactly regular customers in his bar. 

It wasn’t until Jimmy walked in that Clyde finally got his answer. The brothers were waitin’ on someone. A colleague of Joe’s, he said; they’re supposed to meet up in this here bar to negotiate with Jimmy, talk shop as it were. Now, Joe was very clear that he wasn’t gonna do any plan or heist without another professional, to help out. So it’s not like they have a choice in the matter. They needed this guy on their side.

This, of course, left him a bit apprehensive. After all, he’s seen what Joe’s brothers are like. What would a friend of Joe Bang’s even be like? This famous so-called swiss army man. He was probably another convict or a thief. Clyde could picture it now; he’d most likely be a thought biker type of some sort, or a bearded tattooed man with a tear tattooed on his face, maybe someone with a penchant for violence….And they were plannin’ to meet in his bar, during his shift.

Great.

That is the last thing that Clyde needs in his bar. Plus, won’t it look suspicious if they’re seen associatin’ in an almost conspiratorial manner? The cops would find out. I’d be just his luck too if trouble comes his way because of this. He’s waitin’, afraid it’ll happen too.

The Logan Family Curse

He’s been hollerin’ in both Jimmy’s and Mellie’s ears about this, comin’ up on years now, but it’s just not goddang normal. Hell, he never takes his damn horseshoe ring off, just in case. Now, Clyde hasn’t always believed in the so-called family curse; he didn’t believe it in high school and he didn’t believe it when he did two tours in Iraq (otherwise he probably wouldn’t ‘ve done them in the first place). 

But ever since the freak landmine accident that cost him his hand an’ part of his forearm, he couldn’t stop thinking that this kind of stuff just don’t happen to normal folk. So he started digging up info about his other family members, and bit by bit he started to put the pieces of this whole thing together. The proof that not only does he have the Logan curse on his head, but that it exists. Ever since then, he’s been wearin’ the same lucky horseshoe ring, thinking it’d be best to ward off any type of bad luck an’ evil out there as much as he can. 

It’s just not smart to tempt the devil, and he’ll avoid it where he can.

Clyde is taken off his internal reverie as Sam approaches him at the bar. “Another round, my good man.” He tells Clyde. He, of course, obliges and hands Sam two bottles of Coors, uncapped.

Meanwhile, Jimmy sat in his usual bar stool, drinking his beer, talkin’ to Clyde while he worked the bar; re-filling drinks and cleanin’.

“You got everythin’ planned?” Clyde asks Jimmy

“Just about. Just ironin’ out some things.” He answered confidently even though Jimmy still hasn’t finished planning squat. But he can’t let Clyde know, he’d panic, quietly, but he would still panic. 

“Welp, you better do it fast, got the auto show comin’?” Clyde reminds him earnestly.

As Clyde starts to put some glasses away on the high shelf, busying himself with never-ending work, so much so that he doesn’t notice that the front door opens and in walks a woman. 

“Be right with ya.” He said after he heard one of the bar stools near Jimmy scrape on the wooden floors.

Now, you found it hilarious that the bar was called the Duck Tape…you spent all this time thinking it was weird to name a bar “Duct Tape” but here you stand at the front door; corrected, ‘cause it could, in fact get weirder. You, of course, pay no mind to the ambience or the music hanging in the air once you enter the bar. You were here to meet with Fish and Sam; strictly business, or at least that’s what you thought while looking around the bar.

There were a few patrons, a few people sat in the u-shaped bar, while the bartender looked like he’s doing something on the shelves above it. You decide to not be a bother while he’s up on his step ladder and you just quietly walk over to the bar, sitting two seats away from another patron. He’s young looking, around his mid-thirties with short brown hair, and a goatee and the beginnings of a beard. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, but under it you can see that he was about fit, or fit enough. Or at least, that’s what you could gather since he was actually getting up, probably to go to the bathroom or something. He was good looking though, even if he had a bit of a limp, you noticed as you gave him a passing smile, doing your best to be friendly to the locals.

It’s seemed to be a quiet night all around. To the right there were some men drinking together, probably buddies; you saw Fish and Sam were already here, playing pool on a table nearby, probably waiting for you to get here. All in all, you really didn’t seem to miss anything going on. 

That is until you turned your focus to the bar, and said bartender working in front of you. How oblivious did you have to be to not notice this man? You asked yourself as you saw that the bartender there wasn’t using a step ladder at all. 

Well, Hello.

He was just this tall mountain of a man, with black shoulder length hair. His back was towards you, so you couldn’t see much, but what you could see, you enjoyed. His body was wrapped up in a cotton button-down short sleeved shirt, and those dark wash jeans that gave you a nice view of a tight ass that you can stare at all day if he lets you (you wouldn’t mind grabbing it either). 

Through his shirt you could see his shoulder blades through his back; flexing and moving as he finished placing the glasses high up, giving the rippling view and showing that he may be wide, but his waist was defined. So he was likely well built. A gym freak, health nut maybe? No, his waist would be more defined if he was, so would his muscles. His form suggests that his muscles are built to be strong, not for show. 

Maybe this mountain man chops wood. All in all you liked the view, and you always did have a thing for tall men (Everything just tended to be more proportional). So really, you wouldn’t mind spending some time in the bar, looking at him as he worked, getting a drink to relax, and enjoy the local sights before having to deal with Fish.

Uuuugh!

Why does this have to happen when you’re here because of a Job? You’d rather just not deal with them at all if you could. Don’t take it the wrong way, the Bang Brothers aren’t bad people, per se. In fact you don’t mind Fish at all, and they’re good hearted boys; they mean well, but it’s obvious to any adult equipped with a brain that the smarts in the family went to Joe. The man’s a chemist after all, and Fish and Sam…well, they mean well, and Fish is okay. With a makeover he could be cute. But it’s not a mystery why he’s not a hit with the ladies. Or why Misty had an affair behind his back.

You rearrange your posture in your seat, twisting around over to the billiard’s table, just to make sure that both Sam and Fishy were still there.

“What do you like?” Clyde asks in a friendly way before finally turning around, and just like that……It’s as if life punched him stupid in the face and left his vision all blurry like. It was as if for an instant time stopped and he was left still, dumb and frozen, just staring at you. It’s a good thing you were looking over at the billiards table because otherwise, he’d looked like a creep.

Now, to be fair, Clyde’s seen all types of folks come ‘n go around these parts, especially when you work at a bar. But Clyde could swear that he’s never seen someone quite like you. In your short white cotton dress, cinched at the wait with a thin brown belt with cute little brown cowboy boots; and your hair, loose in the most beautiful shade of (H/C) he’d ever seen. Now this isn’t enough to go by, and it’s true. It wasn’t until you turned your face to answer him that he finally managed to see you, that left Clyde truly entranced. Your beautiful (E/C) eyes, your hair framing your face beautifully had him enchanted; but the most beautiful part, in his opinion, was that bright smile that you gave him. It was one of those smiles that pulled up at your cheeks and made your nose scrunch a bit and maybe he was crazy but it lit up the whole goddamn bar. 

Clyde doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been a while since he was with another woman, but goddamn, it was like you came right out of a dream; an angel with a white dress and everythin’. 

All in all, he was so dumbstruck in awe, that he didn’t notice that you sweetly gave him your order. It was as if for the briefest of seconds he felt like he was underwater.

Snap out of IT!!!

Clyde clears his throat blinking quickly to get him out of his stupor. “I’m sorry?” he asked you as if he’s trying to make sure he got your order right.

“Can I have a vodka with Orange Juice, please?” you ask him again sweetly, not minding at all that you had to repeat your order.

“Uh, yeah. Comin’ right up.” He said politely, trying to give you a good impression, but also being professional. The last thing a lady like you needed was a guy harassin’ her and bein’ inappropriate with her. It didn’t help the wait that you were looking at him, all sweet-like, like ya had a secret that he didn’t know.

And maybe you did; or maybe you were just checking him out as he showed off, making your drink, with added flair that belonged in a more modern bar, not the duck tape. Still, you were grateful for the opportunity to watch him work.

Of course, the pleasure was all yours. Watching him closely, enjoying the show he put on for you. 

The man himself was six feet tall, maybe six foot two, but his body was well built all around from what you could see. His hair was dark, wavy and gorgeous….how is that even fair? You don’t know, but it does complement his goatee and frame his face, accenting his big nose and his full, pouty lips. It gives him this rugged, country boy look. His eyes are brown and look soulful; gentle, offsetting his almost intimidating physique.

You notice that he’s wearing a black t-shirt under his navy-blue button down as he moves through the bar and even flips the shaker to efficiently mix the drink over ice, even though it’s not typically mixed, not knowing that he did it was to cool your drink as a special treat for the lady in white.

He tapped the glass connected to the shaker and poured the mixture in a clean high-ball glass sitting on a napkin, and delicately handed it over to you. You took the opportunity and deliberately brushed your fingers against his as you smiled at him, noting his lucky horse shoe ring sitting in his fourth finger. What a peculiar thing to wear you mused as you do a quick study in your head; nearly hitting yourself for not noticing earlier the most obvious thing about him until he was right in front of you, fixing your drink. An amputee bartender…that’s a first. You start to wonder how was it that he lost it. maybe a car crash? Some type of accident most definitely. Either way, this wasn’t something that you saw everyday.

“Thank you.” You tell him kindly, just being polite.

“Ya welcome, miss.” He replies leaving the statement in the air. You look around a bit dramatically and look back at the bartender. 

He’s polite and his voice. Hmm! 

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like rural sex on a stick, but you’re starting to want t o know more about him. And being the weirdo that you are, you start analyzing him from top to bottom; you can’t help it, you were just too curious about this sexy mystery man. Too bad I can’t tell if he’s married you think as you start to really look at him, seeing what you could find out.

Male, late twenties to early thirties, over six feet, caucasian, dark hair, well built athletic, soft spoken, polite, but articulated. A bit shy, definitely not a social butterfly, from what I can see. Body language and tone suggests a bit of an inferiority complex and lack of confidence despite his height, meaning that he’s self conscious. Maybe he was picked on for it. His build suggests he was maybe an athlete in high school or college, perhaps military training. That could explain the lost arm, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. 

Your thought process makes you look at him sideways, supporting your head’s weight in your left hand as he cleans in front of you while you contemplate his life story. You wanted him to talk to you, you wanted him to make the first move; for him to give you a way to talk to him. But from the looks of it, you’re gonna have to make the first move. Luck favors the bold, you remind yourself before taking a deep breath and look at his face.

“Is the bar always this busy?” You teased at him, a smirk on your lips as you’re trying to make conversation. The brothers are still playing pool, so you have time. Why bother them and interrupt their game when you can play one of your own right here? And with far better company at that.

Clyde doesn’t miss a beat, hearing the small tease in your tone, still not really believing that you’re talkin’ to him. “Well, you’re very lucky. Bar’s not usually full until the weekend, so you can get my attention easily.” He replies teasing you right back with a small innuendo as he met your smirk with one of his own.

“Really? Lucky me then. And what’s your name?….You know, in case I need to catch your attention. Or are you just ‘bartender’?” You fire right back. Okay, so the boy knows how to flirt a bit, this is promising, you thought as you played innocent with him, leaning back a bit and puffing out your chest and smiling, which if the lighting isn’t tricking you, causes him to blush a bit, on his cheeks, right below those cute little eyes.

“Name’s Clyde. At your service, Miss….” His answer held the promise of servicing more than a cocktail, or at least you hoped it did. 

“Vivienne. The name is Vivienne.” You introduce yourself, moving your head slightly, flipping a bit of our hair as you do so, showing more of your angelic face to Clyde, and he can’t help but give a small smile and the sound of your name. Vivienne, Vivienne Clyde repeats your name, trying it out in his head, almost as if to see if it fit with what he saw in front of him. “Or ya’ll can call me Vivi for short, everybody does.” She smiled at him, a southern twang in your voice and the way you speak. It’s not from around these parts that’s for sure. Maybe it’s a different part or state. Heaven knows Clyde isn’t the most traveled fella, and even the parts where he’s travelled too ain’t that exotic.

Vivi takes a swig at her drink, gesturing to the ring on his right hand. “Are you superstitious? Or are you just always lucky?”

Clyde takes a look at his ring before smiling, slightly amused at the thought of Clyde Logan, of all people, being lucky at all. “A bit superstitious. Rather not tempt the devil y’know.” He answers lightheartedly, not wanting to elaborate on how was it that the Logan Curse made him believe in it. At least for right now, he just counts himself lucky to get you interested in him at all, don’t get him wrong, but Clyde isn’t an optimistic man; he can’t afford to be, not with this curse over his head. Knowing his luck, you’ll get bored of him quickly and move on to another fella. But he might as well enjoy this while it lasts. “You?”

“A bit, but who isn’t really? I mean, it never hurts to throw a bit of salt over your shoulder, right?” You answer with a smile, your right eyebrow raising as you did so with a little playful shrug, causing his smirk to develop into a full smile, making his cheeks pull up a bit and his eyes shine at your lighthearted demeanor. You’re guessing that it’s not easy or common to break him and get a smile out of his somber, pouty expression, given how he seems to hold himself so seriously; so you considered this a little victory. Clyde just thought of it as part of your charm.

And just like that he was hooked.

When you were done with your first drink, you decided to take it up a notch. Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe it was your own bravery, either way you end up inviting him to drink with you, appealing to his good nature. 

“It’s my first time in West Virginia, and it’s bad luck to drink alone.” you say, pouting your lips at him. 

“Well what about that first one?” he counters. 

“That one doesn’t count. And if it does, then I need to do something about it. C’mon, have a drink with me. That way you can help me negate the bad luck.” You told him. At first he didn’t think it right, him bein’ working an’ all, but how could he say no to you? How could he say no to those captivating eyes and those tempting lips? 

So Clyde agreed, saying that he can’t leave a lady like you with bad luck in all good conscience, and deftly took two shot glasses down from the shelf and filled each of them with Bourbon Whiskey.

Taking the shot, you smelled it and looked at him funny. “Bourbon?” You asked him, to which he nodded in response. “It’s the good kind, top shelf, to commemorate your first time drinkin’ in West Virginia, on the House.”

  
“Well then, cheers. To good luck and good health.” you say raising your glass to meet his with a small clink before downing the contents in two quick swigs; the liquid burning your throat and the back of your mouth as you shook your head blinking as you did so.

“You good?” He asked smiling, this time his smile showed you a glimpse of his teeth. You nodded vigorously as you got ready for another round.

Just two seats away, Jimmy saw the exchange and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This lady was downright flirtin’ with his little brother, not in an overtly sexual way, but in a sweet teasing way. And what’s even more shocking; Clyde is flirtin’ right back. Well, his version of flirtin’, which isn’t to say much, cause his brother tended to be of a more serious type. 

Now, he didn’t recognize you, or at least he can’t remember you from anywhere, and be that as it may Boone County ain’t that big. People tended to know everybody in town. So, you’re either a relative of someone or you’re from out of town, maybe even a city girl by the looks o’ your hair. He ain’t ever seen someone have hair that pretty; like them models you see in magazines or movies. But still, this is a big thing, so he decides to not interrupt, and let his brother enjoy her company while he enjoys his beer.

—————————————————

You spent the better part of the next two hours with him, talking, drinking and joking around. Honestly, you had even forgotten about Sam and Fish, and the whole reason why you were in the bar in the first place, preferring to spend your time like this than to deal with them.

Unfortunately your good time’s cut short as Sam Bang approaches the bar to order another beer and ends up looking in your direction when he heard you talking to Clyde.  
  
“Vivi?” He asked, turning away from the bar in your direction. Effectively ending your moment with the handsome man.

Both you and Clyde turn in Sam’s direction, you sigh loudly from your nostrils as you regard his appearance. “Hi Sam, how’s it going?” you ask him, causing Clyde’s once sunny mood to darken in shock as he looks back and forth between you and Sam; asking himself just how did you know him.

Sam turns around towards the billiards table and shouts. “Hey yo Fish! Vivi’s here!” getting his brother’s attention.

Upon hearing his brother Fish walks over to see what the commotion is about. “What?…Hey Vivi? When did you get here?” he asked and then gave you a small kiss in the cheek showing how familiar you were. You reciprocate the kiss with a polite smile before answering. “Oh just a while ago. I decided to get a drink while you boys finished your game.”

Okay, what the hell is goin’ on? Clyde thought jealously, watching with suspicious eyes as Fish’s arm wrapped around your waist as he gave you a kiss on yer cheek. He needed someone to explain this ‘cuz he couldn’t understand what was happenin’. One minute, yer talkin’ to him, flirtin’ all nice like, and now your talkin’ to Sam and Fish Bang like ya’ll good friends or somethin’. Was he in like a Twilight Zone? All he could do is pray that you weren’t related to them or that you were Fish’s girlfriend. Anything but that.

Likewise, Jimmy was also taken aback by the apparent run-in between you and the brothers, but he figures that maybe ya’ll are relatives, ‘cause there is no way in hell that one of them is in a relationship with someone like you.

Not able to take it anymore, Clyde addresses the group. “You know each other?!” he asks cautiously, his tone sounding a little louder than necessary, his eyes darting between Sam, Fish and you.

“Well, yeah.” Sam is the first to answer, lookin’ confused to ‘ve been asked that in the first place. “We’ve been waitin’ o her, on account of her bein’ our swiss army lady and all.”

“Wait, what?” Jimmy chimes in two seats away, giving away the fact that he was actually eavesdropping on their conversation.

“What?” Clyde equally in shock makes the same question, not processing what Sam said just now.

“Yea.” Sam answered simply.

Fish hits Sam’s arm, catching his brother’s attention. “Sam c’mon, man. It’s 2017. Weeee’re what?” he said slowly, hoping that Sam will get the point that he’s trying to get across to him. Sam, being Sam, just shrugs; not getting the point that Fish is getting at, causin’ Fish to let out an exasperated breath. “We’re woke, man. It’s Swiss Army MAN.” Fish said as if it was the most obvious thing, clearly embarrassed at his brother’s faux pas.

Understanding the situation as an embarrassment, Sam’s lips formed a small o as he offered an apology towards you. “Oh. I aporogize Vivi, on account of my political correctness.” which you just shrug off, not caring about the insignificant point enough to bother to correct him. 

What you did care about was the fact that they were plain out in the open talking about the job in front of Clyde and the bar patrons, as if it was the most casual thing. Besides, What did they mean by Swiss army man? She was definitely out of this internal joke by the looks of it.

“Swiss army man?” You asked, trying to get it but failing miserably.

Sam just nodded and answered your question with a simple “Yeah.” as if that cleared things up for you.

Meanwhile the Logan brother’s can’t believe what’s happenin’ in front of their very eyes. 

You didn’t seem like the type that can help ‘em out. Hell, you seemed like one o’ them instagram girl with how pretty you look, not a thief or professional criminal! Jimmy just couldn’t wrap around in his mind just how you, pretty, innocent and girly-lookin’ You could help ‘em; just what did you know?

Clyde, like his brother, was equally taken aback by this whole thing. Just a short while ago, he’d been talkin’ to her for two hours; drinkin’ and flirtin’ somethin’ nice. It seemed like she liked him, and Clyde most definitely liked her. Everything about her was beautiful and sweet. AND it turns out that she’s a criminal. Was she a thief? Was she a killer? He just can’t believe it, and just his luck too. Did she already know who he was? She was just jerkin’ his chain, flirtin’ with him to pass the time? From the looks of it, you were this sweet southern girl, without a bad thought in your mind; not a professional criminal. (Not that he had any ground on to judge you) He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

And apparently, neither could Jimmy. Getting up from his chair, he approached the three o’ them pointing a finger directly at you.

“You’re Joe Bang’s so-called ‘colleague’? The one he called?” Jimmy asked incredulously .

“Hi. I’m Vivienne, but everybody calls me Vivi.” you introduce yourself to Jimmy with a friendly smile pullin’ at your cheeks. “ And you are? How do you know Joe Bang called me?”

“This here’s Jimmy. This thing is his whole Idea.” Fish takes the opportunity to explain to you.

Jimmy scoffs while shakin’ his head, not believing this. I guess looks’re deceiving, huh. He thinks to himself in his head as he reaches out to offer you his hand to shake it.

“Jimmy Logan. That bartender you were talkin’ to is my brother Clyde.” Jimmy introduces himself, his tone is defensive, willing to protect his little brother from ‘er. He figures that if you’re a friend o’ Joe Bang, he’d have to be careful with you.

You caught his tone and the sudden tension comin’ from both brothers, but you decided to play it off, used to people underestimating and being uncomfortable with you “Nice ta’ meet ya Jimmy”. You greeted him as you were friendly and shook his hand. You were hoping that Mr. Clyde “the Bartender” Logan would’ve been a good time, after all, your chemistry was so good; and then fate kicks you in the butt, making him find out who you were.

“Likewise.” Jimmy replied politely.

You put your right hand on your cocked hip. “So…Mr. Logan, what’s the job?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! I hoped you liked the first chapter. Fist of all let me just say that I apologise for the word count on this first chapter. I usually write about 3k words, maybe 4, but I wanted to establish the tone of the scenes and and ended up writing a lot. 
> 
> Like it says in the summary this started out as a one shot but then turned into a short fic, which incidentally lets me add more details. Like my other fics; I don’t have a set word count. I got with the flow of the prose until i feel it’s enough.
> 
> So let me know what you think, i’d love feedback.
> 
> all my love
> 
> Selen R :)


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